


pas de deux

by spicyboyfriend



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Halloween, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Serial Killers, Stalking, Suspense, Theme Day: Slashers and Serial Killers, Trauma, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-11-28 02:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyboyfriend/pseuds/spicyboyfriend
Summary: “You’re much prettier up close like this,” his attacker said, pushed Doyoung’s chin up with something sharp and cool against his skin. Doyoung let out a shudder he couldn’t hold back. “All your pretty, smooth skin. Not a scratch on you.”





	pas de deux

**Author's Note:**

> here, take this gross murder fic
> 
> title from [pas de deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPWmtLZ0y5c) from the "Us" soundtrack

_ “You’re not scared of the dark, are you?” _

Doyoung started every interaction with guests that way. It was an easy way to diffuse tension, especially when people showed up just a little too late. Usually delayed flights were to blame, or maybe an accident on the freeway stopping up traffic. Either way, Doyoung was well versed in the art of schmoozing people, well enough to leave the resort with more than his fair share of tips by the time morning came.

It just so happened that Halloween was coming up. Now, Doyoung wasn’t much for holidays, all things considered. Parties and candy became less and less appealing as time went on. Costumes were always fun in theory, until he was itching and dreaming of running home and peeling off those stupid things until he inevitably had to do the same next year.

This year, though, Doyoung was working— which meant, no parties, no candy, no drinking, and certainly no cheap itchy costumes he’d regret later. Despite protests from his friends, Doyoung held his ground that he just absolutely could not change his schedule around for some dumb holiday.

(He totally could. His manager had even offered to give him the night, considering Halloween was one of the quieter nights at the resort, anyways.)

“Most people don’t want to do anything this year anyways,” Ten said, swirling his finger around the lid of his cup, leaning forward to take a sip of matcha before huffing and slouching back in his seat across from Doyoung. “Ever since those people started showing up....”

Doyoung furrowed his brows.

“What people?”

“Y’know....” Ten said, gesturing vaguely with his hands in a way that meant Doyoung should  _ know  _ what the hell he was trying to get at, despite the fact that he very much didn’t. “The one in her apartment? And then the priest at the church?”

“Oh, the murders—”

“Oh my god, could you not say it so  _ loud?” _ Ten said, pointedly, to which Doyoung noticed all the stares from the other patrons, judging them for talking about something so inappropriate for the setting they were in. But really, it wasn’t acceptable anywhere. Talking about what was happening just wasn’t  _ allowed _ , really. Trust what the police were saying, mind your business, keep your nose out of it— Doyoung had heard it all, and he wasn’t even that well versed in it.

“Weren’t there more than two?” Doyoung said after lowering his voice just a touch. Ten nodded, pulled his phone out and tapped on the screen a few times before turning it back to Doyoung. A news article he had pulled up had a list so far of all the murders. “Any new hot ideas from the cops?”

“I mean... they don’t think it’s a cult anymore? They just think it’s some weirdo running around.”

“Killing people.”

“Yeah,” Ten said, sounding a little sheepish. Maybe this was a touchy subject for Ten, too. Doyoung let up on him. “Even Johnny said he wanted to cancel his party. He came up with some lame excuse, like he just wants to stay home. He’s had a party every year since we were in high school. At least just say you’re scared of this guy, y’know?”

“What makes you think it’s a man?” Doyoung said. Ten’s nostrils flared, as he shook his head.

“Uh-uh, I’m not getting into weird murder crap with you. Just let me complain about my Halloween parties and let me be.”

Doyoung couldn’t help smiling a little at that, taking another drink of his iced tea and kicking Ten under the table.

“I can’t believe you’re working, too. That’s so lame. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Ten, we both know I’m the least fun person at Halloween parties.”

“That’s not true,” Ten groused, mostly feeling left out because he was the only one still willing to party when all of this was going on. It was just about the only time of the year left to have fun, other than New Years, and even then, who cared about New Years anyways?

Doyoung let Ten grumble about it for a little longer, changed the subject when their food finally came. Ten looked a little embarrassed asking Doyoung to walk him home, but Doyoung got it. It was getting dark. Ten lived closer than Doyoung did. He’d probably call Doyoung a taxi by the time they got to his apartment.

“You’re really freaked out about the murd—” Doyoung cut himself off. “The incidents.” Better. “You sure you’re okay?”

Ten didn’t answer immediately, stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground, which each step they took crunching the fall leaves beneath their feet. The cool wind caressed Doyoung’s cheeks and made his skin burn, as he noticed the end of his nose turning red.

“I’m just... scared, I guess.” Ten shifted his gaze away from Doyoung, from the ground, tried focusing on anything that could keep his attention for more than a few seconds. “I don’t like using this word, but... serial killers are terrifying.”

“Whoa, whoa, relax there,” Doyoung said. “That’s a big word to throw around.”

“Even if nobody else wants to say it, that’s what this person is. That’s what they’re doing.” Ten shivered, looked over his shoulder. Doyoung would have laughed at him, if this were any other situation, if it were something he could actually laugh about. The expression on Ten’s face was nothing but serious. “Nobody even has any idea of who they are. What they want. Why they’re doing it. They’re just out there.”

“You’re in your head too much,” Doyoung said, moved to shove Ten’s shoulder playfully, but found Ten looking up at him.

“You can feel it, too, right?” Ten said. “Like somebody’s watching.”

Doyoung didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he had felt it since he met up with Ten for lunch. The prickle of goosebumps down the sides of his arms, the way the hair on his neck stood on end at every faint breeze, at every sound he knew didn’t come from him or Ten. It was a miracle he hadn’t looked over his shoulder already. Thank goodness Ten was the first one to do it.

Just because he felt it didn’t mean Doyoung wanted to acknowledge it at all. So Doyoung just shrugged, shook his head.

“I’ve felt the way I do all the time. You’re just thinking about this stuff too much. You’re making yourself paranoid.”

As Doyoung finished that sentence, they arrived at the entrance of Ten’s apartment complex. Ten fished his keys from his pocket, nodded his head. Doyoung noticed the way Ten fidgeted with his hands, looking around them every so often between his words. It was a little irritating, if Doyoung was completely honest, but he understood Ten just needed to get into a headspace where he was comfortable again.

“Hey, has that guy been following us for a while?” Ten said, pointing out a young man walking down the sidewalk. Doyoung turned just slightly to face him, saw his face was covered in a dark mask, only a bit of hair falling past his eyes as he approached them. Ten’s voice began to tremble with his words. “Doyoung, he’s been follow—”

“Would you cut it out?” Doyoung said sharply, cutting Ten off as the young man approaching them eyed them strangely, not stopping to look at them for more than a split second. “He’s just walking. Ten, you’re scaring yourself. Stop it.”

Ten watched the man walk the rest of the way down the sidewalk, stopping at the crosswalk before being joined by a group of people also waiting to cross.

“Yeah. M-maybe you’re right. I just want to be careful—”

Ten screamed when his phone began to ring in the pocket of his pants, making Doyoung squeak at the sound of him, before huffing and smacking his shoulder. Ten pulled his phone out, found Johnny calling him.

“Oh, uh, would you hold on one second?”

Doyoung nodded, turned on his heel and waited for Ten to finish up his call. With his back turned to Ten, Doyoung could study the streets a little more without looking as overly paranoid as Ten did just now. Sure, Doyoung felt a little worried walking around the streets, especially when someone like that was one the loose, but there wasn’t a whole lot Doyoung could do about it other than being a little more vigilant than normal.

There weren’t a lot of people out there. Some couples, or big groups of friends. That young guy that walked right past him was long gone by now. Seriously, Doyoung didn’t know why he expected anything different from Ten, when he always reacted that neurotically when it came to just about nothing.

There was something to say about how absolutely mundane everything seemed to be, though. The way people just went about their lives, just did their day to day things without a care in the world, while these brutal murders were happening right in their own backyards. 

First that young girl, abducted while she was walking to class on an early Tuesday morning. How nobody saw it happen. How none of the cameras captured it. How she showed up eerily soon after her disappearance was publicized. How, when the police were questioned about the condition of her body, the chief of police had to take a moment to gather his thoughts, before he could simply offer, “no comment.”

Doyoung caught sight of a simple black car across the street, slowing to a gentle stop at the corner before parking. Honestly, Doyoung didn’t know why he focused on that car, why he kept his gaze on the windows and waited for a sign of movement. Of life. 

Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but anything to pull Doyoung out of his head was welcome right now.

Nobody moved. Not a soul. Doyoung felt like maybe he had just gotten stuck in that moment. Nobody else on the sidewalks moved. None of the groups. He couldn’t even hear Ten’s voice as he rambled to Johnny on the phone.

Just Doyoung, and that car he was staring at, and the flickering of the streetlights as they came on one by one down the sidewalk.

When Doyoung thought maybe to look away, he finally saw the driver’s side window moving down, revealing just a portion of the car inside, hardly a glimpse of the driver. Doyoung thought maybe he saw sunglasses, or a mess of brown hair. A hand reaching out to wave at him.

“Doyoung.”

He jumped when he felt Ten clap his hand down on his shoulder, bringing him back into the moment, as the sounds of the streets around them filled his mind once more. Sirens and cars rumbling, people talking, Ten’s quiet voice.

“Johnny offered to stay over with me tonight, since, y’know, you have to work tomorrow night. I know you have stuff you’ve gotta do.”

“Oh, that’s good. Is he on his way?”

Ten nodded. “He said he’s a little freaked out, too. We’re just gonna watch movies and be paranoid together.” Ten laughed nervously. “Expect some anxious Snapchats later from the both of us.”

“You’re both hopeless,” Doyoung sighed, throwing a glance over his shoulder. His eyes flickered to where the car should have been, and yet, didn’t find a car, or even a trace that it had been there. Strange. Strange, but not terrifying. Get a hold of yourself, Doyoung.

“Thanks for walking me home, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” Doyoung said, smiling through the gnawing anxiety at the pit of his belly, like he had seen something he wasn’t meant to see. Maybe it was an old friend. Or somebody just waving for the hell of it. It was almost Halloween anyways. People did shit like that for laughs all the time. Doyoung remembered doing dumb things like that when he was a kid, too.

(Why was he trying to reason this out so much?)

Doyoung refused a taxi from Ten, insisted he could walk home and left before Ten could protest otherwise anymore. It was a little chilly out, but nothing Doyoung wasn’t looking forward to already. Summer was nice for about a week, before he got sick of the humidity and the way his thighs would stick together if he sat down for more than two seconds, and how his clothes never  _ really  _ felt dry in the summer, always slightly damp. That was seriously one of the most annoying parts.

And the leaves turning colors was always nice to look at, even as the sun began to set behind him.

Doyoung walked the entire way home, not looking over his shoulder once, and pretending he didn’t see that same car once or twice at the intersections where he waited to cross the road.

It was just someone playing a prank. That’s all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The week came and went, and before Doyoung knew it, he was working on Halloween night, driving around in a golf cart, picking up guests and taking them to their rooms. He made small talk, asked about their families and pretended he cared, and by the end of it all, he got a nice little tip and a smile from the guests before sending them to their rooms.

Ten had texted him just before his shift started, wondered if maybe Doyoung had changed his mind and wanted to do anything on that night. Ten had lightened up quite a bit, wasn’t so worried about a serial killer that didn’t exist. It was just a weird series of coincidences. That’s all. And the police would figure out the person responsible and send them to jail. That’s how these things worked. Probably. Doyoung wasn’t  _ completely  _ sure on that one.

Most of the time, Doyoung could point out some of the wild animals that lived on property, like deer and wild pigs, sometimes even managing to find rabbits or other kinds of animals on a particularly lucky night. But it seemed tonight had no such luck. The property was silent, not even a mouse stirring, other than Doyoung and his coworkers.

“Concierge to night services—” Doyoung’s walkie talkie buzzed alive with noise, made Doyoung flinch at the sound of it, just as he reached to grab for it.

“Go ahead,” Doyoung said, held the receiver to his ear.

“Got a room service order for 315-C.”

“What?” Doyoung whined on his end, grimaced. “It’s all cold food on the night menu. Can’t you just tell them we don’t have any of it?”

“All they want is milk and cookies. Just get up there and grab it. Gratuity is already included. Then you can hide out in the bunker until you have to deliver juices. Sound good?”

“Ugh, copy that,” Doyoung said, tucking his walkie back in the collar of his jacket, before turning the key to the golf cart and starting up the trail to the lobby. Doyoung knew he had it easy when he worked these overnight shifts. It was nice not having to deal with the brunt of snobby guests, or having to deliver food all day, or walking around in the heat of humid days and the sun bearing down on him, but that didn’t mean Doyoung didn’t like complaining just a little bit when he had the chance.

  
  
  


The rattling sound of the glass bottles of milk on top of the glass plate full of cookies was hardly ambient noise Doyoung wanted to listen to, but it was what he had to, as he started up the familiar hill towards 315-C, having warmed up the cookies and grabbed two glass bottles of milk to take with him. 

The drive was easy enough, and when Doyoung glanced at his clock, he realized his night was almost over! Then he’d be able to go home, sleep, and listen to Ten talk about all the Halloween gossip he had caught up on at Taeyong’s party. 

When Doyoung first started, he really was afraid of the dark. After all, who wouldn’t be a little spooked by weird noises in the dark coming from every tree, bush, or generally unlit area? That was why Doyoung would ask people if they were afraid of the dark. At first, it was a genuine question, curious if people had tips to get over his fear. 

Over time, it became more like his mantra, to remember why he  _ shouldn’t  _ be afraid, and also a way to ease people into the resort. A nice way to lighten the mood, he reminded himself, as he heard a strange noise behind him, and jumped before remembering the deer were on property around this time of year. Nothing too strange.

As Doyoung turned the corner at the base of the hill, just where he should have been heading up, the golf cart he was using sputtered to a silent stop, spitting out whatever little energy it had left, before Doyoung had to throw the emergency brake, all while still managing the cookies in the passenger side seat.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Doyoung spat, pulling his walkie from his jacket. “Night services to front desk.”

The walkie didn’t even crackle. Not even the sound of white noise came from the small speakers. Doyoung furrowed his brows, let out a huff of annoyance.

“Night services to front desk?” he repeated, a little less forcefully this time. Sometimes, the people at the front desk said he was too harsh on the radio, so maybe that was it.

Still no answer, though, and it didn’t seem as though the walkie was actually  _ working, _ as Doyoung let out a noise of frustration. Guess he’d have to walk this order up to the room. That wasn’t such a big deal, but walking all the way back to the lobby would be a pain in the ass, and giving that golf cart a jump was going to take some serious time away from Doyoung’s relaxation time. He had some TV shows he really wanted to catch up on, damn it!

“Stupid bellmen don’t recharge  _ my  _ cart after they use it without  _ my  _ permission—” Doyoung grumbled under his breath, grabbing the platter of cookies and milk, before heading up the steep hill, one step at a time, all while balancing everything perfectly. Behind him, Doyoung heard faint noises. Probably another deer, or maybe a wild pig. They were around, sometimes.

Out of breath, Doyoung rang the doorbell to the room, waited a moment, and received no answer. Much like the front desk, it appeared nobody was there, or at least, nobody was answering. Doyoung sighed, just quiet enough for himself to hear, before knocking, and ringing the doorbell. It didn’t even look like there were people in there, Doyoung thought to himself.

“Night services to front desk,” Doyoung said after unclipping his walkie. Much to his disappointment, the front desk still wasn’t answering. Doyoung didn’t know what to do with this now. These cookies couldn’t just be left out, the animals would eat them. And the milk would curdle if it wasn’t refrigerated after long, despite the chill in the air. Doyoung didn’t want to get a bad review from a customer either, just because they couldn’t be bothered to answer their door.

Not knowing what else to do, Doyoung just left the cookies at the doorstep, ringing one last time and knocking just a touch louder than before. It seemed there was still no movement in the room, so Doyoung took a step back, turned on his heel, and promptly started down the steep hill again, holding his breath with each step he took, hoping he didn’t tumble down.

At the base of the hill, Doyoung tried his key in the golf cart again. Maybe it had found some spare charge and would start up just long enough for Doyoung to get it to the lobby to charge.

But that would be just too lucky for Doyoung, wouldn’t it? He rolled his eyes in annoyance as he tried turning the key over and over, but the engine wouldn’t even give a wheeze or an attempt at starting. Just pathetically whined, before Doyoung jerked his key out of the slot and sighed. Whatever. Whatever! He could use the walk, he guessed.

Now, if Doyoung had the option, he very much would rather do anything than walk the property at night. At dawn was one thing, but the pitch black of night was a whole other ball game, and Doyoung didn’t like it very much. Animals chittered and squeaked too loud for Doyoung to focus on anything but that, and his own imagination got the best of him sometimes when it came to seeing figures in the dark. 

Doyoung remembered the first time he thought he saw somebody in the road while he was driving the golf carts, how he slammed on his brakes, only to find there was nobody there. That earned him a stern talking to from the housekeeping manager, as she received a complaint from the guests that were with him just a few hours after.

That being said, Doyoung could handle walking to the lobby. It was a ten minute walk at most, and maybe by the time he got closer to the vicinity, he’d be able to get a signal on his walkie and have someone meet him halfway. The animals were loud, sure, but that didn’t mean Doyoung did anything other than tuck his head and walk a little faster when he felt a chill up his spine— the inevitable shudder of goosebumps littering his arms as the breeze whipped around him.

For a moment, Doyoung mistook the quiet ambient noise as his walkie, fumbling with it for a moment before it slipped from his hands and crashed against the asphalt.

“Oh. My fucking. God.”

Doyoung couldn’t help it as it slipped past his lips, as he went to grab the walkie, and found the battery compartment open. Inside sat one battery, snugly fitting in, and yet, even as Doyoung flashed his flashlight on the road, around him in a circle and even a little further out, he... couldn’t find the other battery. Not to save his life. Was that why it wasn’t working?

Doyoung furrowed his brows, staring at the walkie. He was just using this walkie, though. It was  _ just  _ working. He wasn’t crazy. He had this walkie on him the entire time, even as he made up the room service order. He only set it down for... for a minute, maybe, while he ran back to the lobby to get a golf cart key. But that....

For some reason, Doyoung shivered, turned on his heel too quick for his own good and stumbled back just a few steps. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t. He had left the walkie outside for just a second, not even a minute! This was just some stupid joke. Maybe it was the front desk trying to prank him on Halloween night. Ha-ha, very funny, he thought, before turning around and heading down the path again.

As if Doyoung wasn’t already spooked enough, he caught wind of an owl hooting in the background, which wasn’t anything out of the norm. But right now, it seemed like something alarming, something Doyoung should be scared of. Seriously, fuck Halloween night.

“Doyoung.”

At the sound of his name, Doyoung practically screamed. He dropped the walkie in his hands to the ground again, turned around in a full circle looking for the source of his name, and found nobody, not a soul that could explain why he heard his name so suddenly, so clearly. Somebody said his name. Somebody called it out. Doyoung  _ heard  _ it.

And before Doyoung could think, he heard faint footsteps, the sound of rocks crunching beneath shoes, and he started running so fast, faster than his heart was beating in his chest—  _ thump, thump, thump—  _ against his ribcage like it was the only thing keeping his heart in place.

Where Doyoung was running, he didn’t care, so long as there was a light, or other people, or  _ anywhere  _ else besides being alone. But the sound of the owl echoed behind him, like a harbinger of bad luck, chasing, chasing, finally catching up to him.

Doyoung slowed to a stop as he reached one of the first street lamps on the resort, keeled over with his hands on his knees. The front gate was just a mile away— he could see the light on, could see his coworker sitting in front of the security camera view, keeping an eye on the resort. If he could just run a little bit more, he’d be out of the dark, and the whole stupid prank would be over. Doyoung was gonna make sure everyone heard an earful about this in the morning.

“Doyoung,” the voice came again, and this time was followed by the sound of footsteps right beside him, right behind him, and then a hand clapping down on his mouth, another pushing him down to the ground and then— 

God, it all happened so fast, Doyoung could hardly think, stunned into obedience as his arms went behind his back and the offender zip tied his wrists together. Before Doyoung could get the first scream for help past his lips, they had stuffed his mouth with a towel, then taped his mouth shut and dragged him down the nearest ditch, under one of the many bridges littered around the resort.

With it being so dark, all Doyoung could make out of his attacker was the fact that they were most likely male. Dark hair. Dark eyes. No particular features. Just aggressive, as they shoved him into the concrete wall behind him, pinned him up against it and holding him there by his neck. Doyoung breathed in, hard through his nose, wondered if it was always this hard to breathe through his nose, before exhaling and feeling his eyes water up.

“You’re much prettier up close like this,” his attacker said, pushed Doyoung’s chin up with something sharp and cool against his skin, most likely a knife. Doyoung let out a shudder he couldn’t hold back. “All your pretty, smooth skin. Not a scratch on you.” Then the attacker laughed. “Well, not yet, anyway.”

There were a lot of things Doyoung wanted to say, to ask. He wanted to scream, plead for mercy. He wanted to beg for freedom, offer anything he had in exchange for his life. Doyoung wanted to threaten and try to work his way out of his situation he found himself in, or at the very least, die trying. Yet, there he was, defenseless as ever, wiggling his fingers against the zip tie and trying so desperately to work his way out. 

“I’ve been following you,” the stranger said, “for weeks.”

Doyoung couldn’t help the sob that escaped him at that. All those times he felt like somebody was following him; all the shivers and quiet noises he heard while grocery shopping, all the times he looked over his shoulder on his way home, and all night here— he was being  _ stalked. _

“I bet your voice is pretty.”

_ Don’t fucking talk to me like that,  _ Doyoung wanted to scream, but just found himself holding back tears.

“I’ll ask you some questions, for now, and you,” the stranger paused, and poked the knife into the tender flesh beneath Doyoung’s chin just slightly, “you will answer me through nodding, or shaking your head. Understand?”

At this, Doyoung nodded, felt the knife dig in just slightly. He winced at the pain, just barely noticeable.

“Good boy. Question one: do you know who I am?”

Doyoung hesitated, before shaking his head.

“Question two: do you  _ want  _ to know who I am?”

At this, Doyoung hesitated once more. When he didn’t answer, the attacker repeated the question with a gentle prod from the knife in his hands. Doyoung shook his head.

“Really? How strange. Question three: am I going to kill you?”

Doyoung could feel his blood running cold at these questions, trying so hard to break free of the zip tie binding his wrists together, as he trembled. Doyoung sobbed when the man asked him again, Doyoung couldn’t answer, just sobbed and tried to speak against the towel in his mouth. Drool slipped past his lips and wetted the tape, just slightly, just enough for Doyoung to feel some cool air slip past the seam.

“There’s no right or wrong answer. Just answer.”

Doyoung shook his head, then felt the blade digging in a little deeper. He nodded frantically, and the blade stopped. No wrong answers? Doyoung huffed in irritation, tried hard to meet eyes with whoever it was in front of him.

“Question four: was I in your apartment last night?”

The unadulterated fear in Doyoung’s heart spilled over, overwhelmed him, threatened to drown him, as his eyes went wide and Doyoung whimpered. He shook his head, slow, but felt the pressure of the knife under his chin. Doyoung nodded after a moment of pressure.

The thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat didn’t subside even for a second, even as Doyoung took in another deep breath, hoping to steel his nerves against this stranger, or at the very least, defend himself to the very end, if he had to. 

“You didn’t even notice me,” the man said, soft. “Quiet as a mouse, but would you have seen me, anyway? You’re always so distracted. So busy convincing yourself it could be anything but.”

The knife receded, and Doyoung felt his muscles go lax, his jaw untensing for just a moment, before there was warmth, and heat, and fingers wrapping around his throat, pinning him to the wall behind him. And pressure, and then—

Nothing. No air, nothing, just the pressure on his neck as he struggled to push his attacker away. Kicking his feet did nothing, because the knife was still there, still pointed at him. Any sudden movements and Doyoung was sure his life would come to an end.

“Question five: do you deserve to live?”

Doyoung’s fingers struggled against the zip tie, as he wiggled his fingers just a touch more, felt his index finger just barely making it past the zip tie’s edge and getting under it. The longer he went without air, the more his head swam, his eyes rolling back once or twice as he struggled to breathe against the attacker’s open palm.

“Do you deserve to live?”

The question, echoed once more by the man in front of him, fell on deaf ears. Doyoung struggled against him again, lifted his leg to kick the man, and felt it moving through his thigh just a second later— like butter, but burning like poison, as he whimpered and pulled away.

“Do you deserve to live, Kim Dongyoung?”

Doyoung hadn’t heard anybody use that name for him since the last time he had seen his mother. How much did this guy know about him? What the hell was going on?

That earned a nod of his head. Despite the urges from his attacker, Doyoung refused to say he didn’t deserve to live, only that he did. His attacker laughed, and it sounded... so misplaced. Something you’d hear from somebody on a date, from somebody you were getting to know: a friend, a family member, a lover. Not this. Not from a man like this.

“Question six: have you repented for your sins?”

Doyoung refused to move. He refused to answer. He didn’t shake his head or nod. When the grip on his throat tightened, Doyoung clenched his eyes shut, but didn’t move. Not an inch.

“Don’t like that question?”

His attacker loosened his grip on Doyoung’s throat, let him breathe. Doyoung nearly gagged as soon as the fresh air hit him— felt his throat tight and raw. The only thing holding Doyoung together right now, ironically enough, was the towel stuffed in his mouth. He bit down on it to resist gagging, or even whimpering in pain.

“I never used to ask it,” the attacker admitted. “I’m not a religious man myself, but... the Father asked me.”

Doyoung furrowed his brows, tried wiggling his fingers behind him without being noticed by the man in front of him. The last thing he needed was for him to know he was trying to break free.

“While he was dying, he asked how I would repent for my sins.”

Before Doyoung could think, his attacker grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, threw him down on the ground. Doyoung’s head nearly bounced off the pavement beneath him, only held himself up enough to feel the wind knocked out of him.

With his back against the pavement like this, Doyoung felt the zip tie reposition around his wrists, went lax almost. Doyoung tried freeing another finger, tried wiggling his wrist free. His skin felt like it was tearing against the harsh edges of plastic, digging into his flesh with every movement he made.

“I told him I didn’t believe in God, and he laughed.”

At this angle, Doyoung caught a bit more light on the stranger’s face. His eyes were brown. His eyes were brown, Doyoung willed himself to remember the shape, the way they looked, how his lashes curved over his cheeks.

“He was dying... and he laughed,” the attacker said, sounding amused, and a little surprised. “I slit his throat after that, but I thought, y’know, since the priest figured it was a funny question to ask, why not start asking my favorites that question?”

Doyoung didn’t flinch as the man traced the tip of his knife against the line of Doyoung’s throat.

“Are you a God fearing man, Kim Dongyoung?”

Doyoung didn’t answer then, either.

“I already know everything about you,” the attacker said. “What you eat. Where you sleep. How you sleep. Your friends, your family, your coworkers.” He paused to crouch down on top of Doyoung, pronounced every pause in his sentence for effect. “I just want to know. With this knife pressed against your throat, knowing you’re about to die, are you a God fearing man?”

With that last question, Doyoung felt the knife against his throat once more, only this time, it dug in, just slightly. Not enough to be fatal, but enough for Doyoung to feel the pressure, the warmth of his blood trickling over a moment after.

_ Run,  _ Doyoung screamed at himself.  _ Run! _

The next gasping breath Doyoung tried taking in, all at once, he managed to free his zip tied wrists, one hand coming loose and immediately darting for his mouth, pulling the tape and towel off and out before screaming as loud as he could. The sound came out ragged and garbled, as Doyoung immediately kicked his legs out, angrily came in contact with whatever he could. He wasn’t sure if he hurt his attacker, or if he even stunned him, or if he was chasing after Doyoung. Doyoung just knew he had to get away.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. One second, he was there. The next, Doyoung was on his knees, then on his feet, running out of the ravine, onto the asphalt, catching his footing and sprinting to the front gate with nothing but pure adrenaline rushing through his veins. Security had already heard him scream before, were already walking out with their weapons drawn and flashlights on. Doyoung held his hands in the air, now limping to the front gate security.

“Doyoung?” one of them said, sudden. “Are you okay?!”

Doyoung gasped against his raw and ragged throat, tried to catch his breath as best he could, before finally speaking.

“Put the resort on lockdown. Call the cops—” he gasped, retched and keeled over. “There’s a serial killer on property.”

“A  _ what  _ is on property?”

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding, Doyoung— Doyoung?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


By the time the police made it on property, Doyoung had bandages on his throat, on his thigh, and around his wrists. The resort was on lockdown, but the police hardly seemed concerned, and wrote off Doyoung’s protests as him being traumatized. They questioned him for hours, writing down every detail, before asking how he managed to get free. Doyoung couldn’t really describe how, just that he did. The zip tie came loose just enough for him to break out. He was still holding onto it. He still had it in his hands, after security had cut it off.

“And he talked about the previous murders?”

“Yeah, he did,” Doyoung said. “Talked about the priest, specifically. Only the priest.”

The two police officers looked at one another, then started talking as they turned their back on Doyoung. More police poured into the lobby, walking in and out, searching the entire property for any sort of clues they could find about who it was that targeted Doyoung.

“Ten!” Doyoung shouted, as he saw Ten walking into the lobby, searching for Doyoung. Ten’s eyes went wide, running right for Doyoung and pulling him into his arms. It wasn’t like them to be this affectionate, but Ten was horrified when the police called him and asked him to pick up Doyoung and keep him company, while the police dusted and searched Doyoung’s car for any prints or any signs of tampering.

“Dude, are you—” Ten hiccuped as he pulled away from Doyoung, touching his face and his hair and looking into his eyes. “Are you okay?! Fuck, I can’t believe this happened to  _ you—” _

Doyoung couldn’t even look Ten in his eyes for long, just remembered  _ his  _ eyes, how dark they were, how much... amusement was in them. He shivered, and Ten sat down beside him, ready to talk to him about everything that happened, to take him home and keep him safe. Doyoung only vaguely noticed a small group of guests walking into the lobby, approaching the front desk and sliding their keys over.

“What’s all the commotion about?”

“Sir, we called all guests and warned there were police on property. There was an attack on an employee last night.”

“Oh?”

Doyoung glanced over at the front desk, where the voices were coming from. Again, he hardly registered their presence— only that one of them seemed familiar. Then again, Doyoung checked in plenty of guests, knew their names off the top of his head and how long they would be on property. Nothing unusual there.

By the time Doyoung realized the guests were staring at him, they were already walking out, returning to their lives, returning to the normalcy of their routines. Doyoung shivered as he curled in on himself, and for the first time all night, let himself burst into tears, while Ten rubbed his shoulder and reassured him he would be okay.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sometimes, in quiet moments, Doyoung would swear he heard somebody calling out his name.

When he was walking home, for the most part, Doyoung had to have his phone ready to call emergency services if he had to. Or, if Doyoung found himself alone at home, despite adopting a dog and paying a hefty price for a security system, Doyoung would keep all his doors and windows locked and shut, didn’t trust anybody or anything other than himself, and sometimes Ten, when he was feeling particularly gutsy.

It took him nearly a month and a half to leave his home after the “incident”. Doyoung didn’t like calling it that, but his therapist insisted on using a kinder word for it, other than “near-death experience”. Apparently, Doyoung was going through trauma because of it. He really wasn’t sure what to call it. “Trauma” just sounded way too serious for his own good.

And despite all the measures Doyoung took to reassure himself that he wasn’t on the verge of death, sometimes Doyoung would hear his name. Muttered soft, muttered under somebody’s breath, just muted enough for Doyoung to look over his shoulder, but not loud enough for anybody else to hear. Doyoung couldn’t count on both hands how many times Ten called him crazy for thinking he had heard somebody call his name.

Going back to work was out of the question. For now, Doyoung found a job working from home, and spent his free time throwing himself into anything he could: books, music, tv shows, movies. Doyoung hadn’t consumed so much media in a long time. He even found himself gaining a little more weight than he usually did. He was sure his mother would bring it up at the family reunion.

Anything to stay out of public. Anything to keep Doyoung home, in the one place he knew he was safe. Anything to keep everybody else out.

Except for today. Doyoung agreed to getting coffee with Ten, which meant forcing himself out of his comfort zone, showering to make sure he didn’t stink, and wearing semi-reasonable clothes. He didn’t need to look like a slob, despite the fact that he was a neurotic mess nowadays.

Ten mentioned bringing along a friend, and with the vagueness of the message, Doyoung knew it wasn’t Johnny. Sometimes Ten would put his nose where it didn’t belong, and try setting Doyoung up on dates with people. Before, it always backfired on him, to the point that Ten lost a couple friends because of Doyoung’s behavior. Now, Doyoung hadn’t been on a date since the attack. After all, who had time to go out and build relationships when Doyoung acted like his life was on the line just going out to buy milk?

(“You’re a work in progress,” Doyoung’s therapist would reassure, before smiling and waving him off at the end of his sessions.)

And that was the only reason Doyoung agreed to this coffee date. Despite knowing he was terrified of basically anybody with a pulse, Doyoung also knew the only way to get better was to force himself out of his comfort zone. Interacting with new people was an integral part of the Get Better process. If this was part of what it took to be the person he was before, then so be it.

Doyoung looked down at his phone, staring at the time. Ten was late. That was no surprise. What was a surprise was the fact that Doyoung didn’t really mind too much this time. His patience must have been a byproduct of not leaving the house for so long. Ten’s lateness was a commodity that came with his friendship. It’s part of what made Ten, Ten.

Scrolling through social media, Doyoung eventually came to the place where he left off last on Instagram. No new posts, nothing exciting. Everything the same as it ever was. Maybe Doyoung could get back to that soon.

The door to the coffee shop swung open, and Doyoung flickered his gaze up to find Ten wandering in. His eyes scanned the room, before finally settling on Doyoung. He smiled and waved, ran up too quick and made Doyoung flinch. Calm down, he reassured himself, as he pulled Ten into a hug and patted his back.

Closely behind Ten came a man— brown shaggy hair, soft features on his face, and warm brown eyes. He smiled at Ten, didn’t make eye contact with Doyoung until Doyoung was pulling away from Ten.

“I didn’t order yet. We can order together, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Doyoung found himself sandwiched in between the stranger, and Ten. Ten introduced him as Jaehyun, but Jaehyun had yet to offer Doyoung so much as a sideways glance, so he was still a stranger to Doyoung for now. That was okay, though. Being around an entirely new person was enough stress for Doyoung to deal with at the moment.

Doyoung ordered a simple drip coffee, and Ten ordered his relatively simple but still a mouthful of a drink, then took a step back as Jaehyun moved up to order his coffee.

“Actually, can I get a matcha frappe with two pumps peppermint and java chip?”

Doyoung furrowed his brows at the sound of his voice. At this, Jaehyun seemed to smile.

“Tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“Sounds like something weird you would order,” Ten joked, and took Jaehyun back to the table while Doyoung paid for their drinks. The cashier didn’t seem to care about Doyoung’s shaky hands, as she snatched his card from his fingers and ran it quickly.

“We’ll bring the drinks out to you. Thank you very much!”

By the time Doyoung made it back to the table, Ten and Jaehyun were involved in a very serious conversation about something clearly important to the both of them, but not so much for Doyoung. Just hearing them go back and forth was tiring. How did Doyoung manage to interact with people like this as often as he did before?

“Oh, I like this song,” Jaehyun commented. “I used to listen to this song when I was with my dad.”

“He listened to this kind of rock music?” Ten said. Jaehyun nodded.

“It was popular, so he liked it.”

Doyoung took a moment to listen to it, but couldn’t make out enough of the words. English wasn’t exactly his strong suit. He’d never really had a use for it.

“Sounds like a song you’d like.”

It took Doyoung a moment to realize Jaehyun was talking to him. Not only was he directing his words to Doyoung, but he was looking at him. His eyes met Doyoung’s as soon as he looked up, and Doyoung furrowed his brows almost immediately. 

“Oh. Good to know.”

Ten glanced between the two, trying to gauge the tension, before he finally parted his lips to speak.

“So, Jaehyun, did you know Doyoung was the one that came face to face with the serial killer? He’s the only one to walk away from this guy. Isn’t that—”

“Ten!” Doyoung said, sounding more than offended. His face went beet red, and he lowered his gaze to the table. This wasn’t something he wanted to talk about over coffee, as the waitress brought their drinks over and smiled at them, asked them if they needed anything else. 

Doyoung could hardly process what she was saying, staring at his coffee in front of him. He snatched it up and started to head out of the coffee shop, with Ten and Jaehyun following closely behind. 

They made it outside, standing just outside of the shop, while Doyoung contemplated making up some excuse to go back home. His TV shows wouldn’t treat him this way. Homoerotic subtext never brought up traumatic events like that for shits and giggles.

“Sheesh. I was just trying to make some conversation,” Ten groused, before taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing. “Oh god, this is terrible. Did she forget the caramel? I need to go get another one of these. Do yours taste fine?”

Jaehyun took a sip of his, and nodded. Doyoung didn’t try his, and Ten just rolled his eyes before heading back in the store, reassuring them he’d be right back.

“Is that too touchy of a subject for you?” Jaehyun said. “The thing Ten brought up?” he clarified, when Doyoung hardly glanced up at him.

“How would you feel almost dying because some lunatic can’t keep his sick fantasies to himself?” Doyoung said. “And then you have to listen to your friend using it as conversational topic fodder?”

Jaehyun hummed, as he took another sip of his drink. Doyoung felt goosebumps litter the planes of his arms, even the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. What the hell was going on? Why did he feel this way? He hadn’t felt this way since... since  _ then.  _ But he was okay. He knew he was. He was surrounded by other people, by his friend and this other person who didn’t seem  _ too  _ bad. Just a tad strange.

Strange. Doyoung looked at Jaehyun, who was staring at him shamelessly. Didn’t even blink when Doyoung made eye contact with him.

“Do you think there was a reason that person let you live?”

Doyoung grimaced. “He didn’t let me live. I managed to run away, and he got scared and left before the cops could find him.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jaehyun said, quirking a brow. At this, Doyoung looked Jaehyun up and down.

“Were you there?” Doyoung snapped. Jaehyun shrugged. “What kind of answer is that?”

Doyoung felt uneasy. Something in his stomach knotted up, told him to really look at Jaehyun. Study him. Study his reactions. Who the hell was this guy, anyways? Ten didn’t even mention how he met him. Ten wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, so where did this person come from?

“Well, whatever his reason was,” Jaehyun started, standing just a touch too close to Doyoung, “I’m glad he decided you deserved to live.”

Deserved.

Doyoung’s knees practically buckled underneath him. Hands trembling. His jaw went slack and he could feel his stomach tightening and twisting in fear.

“It’s....”

Jaehyun waited, took a drink of his disgustingly sweet drink, before smiling at Doyoung.

“It... it was you.”

Jaehyun leaned just a little too close for comfort, made eye contact with Doyoung. He resisted the urge to touch Doyoung’s pretty face, his flawless skin despite all the damage Jaehyun wanted to do to it. All the little marks and cuts and scars to claim what was his. Sometimes Jaehyun just couldn’t help himself.

“Kim Dongyoungie,” Jaehyun teased, smiling.

This wasn’t real. This had to be a nightmare. Doyoung wanted to pinch himself, tear his skin off, do anything to prove this wasn’t real. But everything was. The sound of his voice. The taste of this shitty coffee. The song. This man in front of him. His eyes. His warm brown eyes.

“Remember,” Jaehyun said, to catch Doyoung’s attention, “quiet as a mouse.”

Doyoung didn’t miss the way Jaehyun nodded towards Ten, inside of the shop.

“You wouldn’t want Ten to find out.”

Doyoung swallowed hard at that, his eyes burning with tears.

“I’m sure you’ll be seeing me around,” Jaehyun said. Doyoung shook his head.

“I’ll call the police. I’ll call the police as soon as you’re gone. They’ll take you away, and—”

“Throw big bad me into jail?” Jaehyun said. “With no evidence or proof other than the words of some pathetic shut-in who can’t even go back to his job? Nobody else there is half as much fun as you were that night.”

“Fuck you,” Doyoung spat. Jaehyun grinned.

“Haven’t changed at all, have you?” Jaehyun laughed a little. “Even after quitting your job, even after everything, you’re still the same. I love that.”

“Don’t talk about me like you know me,” Doyoung said. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me like you know me, because you don’t.” As Doyoung started going off, Ten walked outside, his eyes widening at the tension in the air. “If you ever fucking come near me, or my friends, or my family, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Jesus Christ, Doyoung!” Ten said. Doyoung felt Ten push him away. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Apparently I touched a nerve,” Jaehyun said, taking another innocent sip of his drink. When Ten looked away, Jaehyun winked at Doyoung.

“Ten, you don’t even know who this guy is. Let’s go home.”

“No,” Ten said, jerking his arm back from Doyoung, who was trying to jerk him away from Jaehyun’s grasp. “Y’know, I get it that you’re having a hard time and all, but you’re being a real jerk to someone that’s just trying to be your friend.” Ten frowned. “I thought maybe you were just having a hard time because of everything that’s happened, but you’re acting like an asshat right now.”

Doyoung could hardly get a word in edgewise, as Ten told Jaehyun they were leaving, and Doyoung had to watch his friend and Jaehyun leave side by side, Jaehyun glancing over his shoulder once and waving at Doyoung, before disappearing from his view.

_ Deserved to live. Deserved to live. Deserved to live. _

Despite everything in Doyoung telling him to chase after Ten and Jaehyun, he knew Jaehyun wouldn’t hurt Ten, for some reason. If he wanted to, he would’ve already, without meeting up with Doyoung.

No, Jaehyun met with Doyoung to toy with him. To show him that he could do just about anything he wanted— even exposing himself as a serial killer to the one person that nobody would believe.

Maybe Doyoung wasn’t exactly the picture of a functioning adult now, but it was Jaehyun’s first mistake to assume that Doyoung would take defeat without putting up a fight. That was Jaehyun’s mistake the first time around too. He underestimated Doyoung, and Doyoung escaped. No matter how Jaehyun played that off, he lost that night. He continued underestimating him, and expected Doyoung to take it as defeat.

Jaehyun was wrong.

Doyoung was very, very good at winning.

**Author's Note:**

> my attempts at writing horror are few and far between...... forgive me. also forgive me for typos, or mistakes in prose. there's no excuse, im just terrible and my eyes are broken
> 
> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/spicy_boyfriend) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/spicyboyfriend)


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